They Call Me Mimi
by Sevilla Baens
Summary: Oneshot. Marianne never dreamed of being a stripper, she always dreamed of being a dancer. But, as she figured, life does take its weird little turns. Rated T for language, R&R.


A/N: Its kinda long. but whatever. R&R!

Disclaimer: **Rent_is_notmine.**

Marianne was nervous. Why? Well. She was seventeen as of this coming July (it was December), she was a runaway, and well, she new to New York City, and it was eleven o' clock. She stood on the dirty street, outside the doors of the Cat Scratch Club. Marianne never dreamed of being a stripper, she always dreamed of being a dancer. But, as she figured, life does take its weird little turns. She felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey there, Missy, are you going in or not?" A big, dark man said coarsely.

Startled, Marianne squeaked. "Um, um, yeah." With only the thought of to get away from the man, Marianne went in. The club was dark, with blaring music and rang with the drunk laughter of the men seated at the tables. She scurried through the tabled areas and avoided eye contact with anyone and everyone. She then found a comfortable corner of the club, and sat down, her legs pulled close to her chest. She spent the next few hours watching the dancers, and the audience. The dancers moved effortlessly, their eyes intense, burning with a certain passion. The audience was mostly men, who, to put bluntly, drunk off their asses. Here and there, there was a lone drunk woman at a table, staring longingly at the dancers.

It was now three-thirty. Most of the audience had staggered out in their drunken state (for the most part), but there was some that hung back, possibly waiting for one of the dancers. Marianne decided that now was the time. She followed a sinewy dancer who had bright pink hair backstage. She cleared her throat. "Excuse me.." Marianne said timidly, her eyes cast down at her feet.

The pink-haired dancer spun around, bewildered. She calmed down as she realized that Marianne was the speaker."Oh! Um, sorry, didn't notice ya there. How can I help you?"

"Well, I'd like to apply for a job here..." Marianne trailed off, getting more and more nervous by the second. The pink-haired dancer raised an eyebrow.

"As a dancer or...?"

"No, a dancer." This time, the pink-haired dancer stared openly at Marianne.

"Aren't you a bit... young to be dancing here?"

"No, I'm... eighteen."

"Oh really now?"

"...I'm sixteen." Marianne turned and dejectedly started walking towards the doors. She thought that now that her age was exposed, she had no hope of getting a job as a dancer. However, when the pink-haired dancer saw how defeated Marianne looked, she couldn't help herself.

"Come back! I didn't say that you couldn't get the job. Show me what you've got." Marianne ran back with as much dignity as possible.

"You mean it?" Marianne asked breathlessly.

"Yeah, why not? Dance for me." The words sunk into Marianne. _Oh my god._ She thought. _Oh my **god**._

"Now? Dance for you, now?" She spluttered. _No! But, but... arghhhh._

"Yeah, now. I wanna see if you can actually dance. If you don't dance for me now, I'll deny you of possibly getting a job here." Marianne sighed. If she had to, then she had to.

"Fine." Marianne took off her coat, leaving her in a cotton tunic and loose jeans. She began with a high kick, then let the music playing in her head lead her movements. After awhile, Marianne felt more comfortable dancing, and even used the nearest pole in her dancing. By the end of her dance, she had attracted what looked like all of the Cat Scratch Club's dancers. They applauded, and all Marianne could think was how damn _lucky_ she was. She let herself fall to the floor on her knees.

"Not bad. Not bad at all." The pink-haired dancer stepped forward, and offered Marianne her hand. Marianne took her hand, and the pink-haired dancer helped her up. The other dancers had began chattering about the new young girl, who looked like she made her dance routine on-the-spot. _Whoa, she's good_, Marianne heard. Her heart swelled with pride.

"Now. Tell me, what's your name?" The pink-haired dancer inquired. "My name is Venus."

"I'm Marianne." She replied, not exactly loving how her name contrasted with Venus's.

"Jeez, _Marianne_? You need a new name, a dancing alias." Venus thought for a bit, then her face brightened. "I know! Why don't we sit in a circle. All of us. Marianne, sit on my right. We'll go in a circle, left to right. I'll explain my dancing alias, then the person on my left's dancing alias. After me, everyone else just explains the dancing alias of whoever's on your left."

"Okay then. My dancing name is Jinx. I'm Jinx because most are attracted to my pink hair and contacts." Venus smirked. "Its happened before, but people have been just staring at me, and **Bam!** They walk into a wall." She laughed. "Anyways," Venus motioned to the blonde-haired, green-eyed, busty dancer of her left. "This is Queenie. She's the oldest here, and most coveted by the drunk bastards of the audience." Then Venus added in a lower tone to Marianne only, "She's almost 43." Marianne stifled a surprised gasp. "Wow." She replied to Venus in awe.

Queenie took the tootsie pop out of her mouth. "This bitch- she's my bitch by the way- is Ember. She's Ember because one, she's that damn hot-tempered, and two, because of her fiery red hair." Ember waved, and Marianne could see that Queenie spoke true; Ember had the brightest red hair that Marianne had ever seen.

Ember continued the line. "Yah, I'm Ember. But here, this is Onyx." Onyx was a pale, ash-faced dancer on Ember's left. Onyx had dyed hair, jet black with a single white highlight. "Onyx is noted for her piercing stare and lack of emotion. If you ask me, Onyx is plainly just a Gothic kinda' gal-"

"That's enough out of you." Onyx cut Ember off firmly. "Next to me is Cupid." Cupid was a small auburn-haired dancer. She had light brown eyes, and looked like the picture of innocence. ".. She's quite a heart breaker once you get to know her."

Cupid spoke with a surprisingly coarse voice. "She's Lacey." Cupid pointed to a skinny African-American dancer. "Sorry to say it so bluntly Lacey. ...She's also a whore, that's the explanation for her dancing name."

"..And I'm damn proud of it." Lacey said fiercely. "Uhm, putting that aside, meet Cori. 'Cori' is short for Corazon, which means heart. Cori here is a real sweetie." Cori was a Latina-looking dancer, who was normal looking, other than the fact that she was extremely pretty. Black hair down to her hips and soulful eyes were what Marianne saw.

An hour later, Marianne had met Bleach, Viper, Rookie, Karma, Melody, Ink, Twister, Angel, Aqua, Electra, Nightingale, Squeak, Piper, Daisy, Babe, Julio, Hades, Hade's twin Eris, Crystal, Terra, Junior, Velvet, Scarlett, and Destiny, and had learned the origins of their dancing names. Finally, it was Marianne's turn.

"So yeah Marianne," Venus said warmly. "You know all of our names. So what's yours?" Marianne thought about it. _Marianne_ was too ordinary, and tied her down to the restless life she once lived. She wanted a new name to be remembered by, a name that was wild and fun and classic. What about...

"Mimi. My name is Mimi, not Marianne." Mimi said proudly.


End file.
